Burn Like Snow
by aphelion-orion
Summary: Wartime winters are really not fun. -blood, violence, explosions-
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Burn Like Snow  
**Part:** 1/2  
**Characters:** Sol, Ky  
**Rating:** PG-15  
**Warnings:** Violence, blood, and all the good stuff.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine, I'm just playing in the sandbox.  
**Notes:** Set at an unspecified point in time, though I'd place this fairly early in their relationship, and Ky is not yet supreme commander.

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**Burn Like Snow**

_**Part I**_

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-

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The dawn breaking over the mountains barely brought any change from the night, a heavy gray cloud cover hanging low between the peaks, making the sky seem oppressively close. Snow was covering everything like a thick, flowing blanket, so that with only slight absent-mindedness, one could relive a childish fantasy of a land of powdered sugar and cream.

The fantasy did not stand up to close inspection, however; the snow had frozen over during the night, creating a treacherous layer of solidity that didn't hold up under the pressure of human footsteps.

Frowning at the expanse stretching before them, Ky resisted the urge to burrow further into his coat in order to ward off the chill that was creeping into his body despite his best efforts.

Winter had come early this year; he had been hoping the good weather would last at least until they had crossed the pass up ahead into safe territory. That safety was little more than an illusion, he knew—nowhere was completely safe, but it was safe enough for an entire regiment of battle-weary men and women, who had been in the field for six months straight and were looking forward to a chance to rest and enjoy a home-cooked meal for once.

Less than half the number he had started out with, though anyone making it back was already a success.

But the snow. The snow was bothering him.

A sharp crackling sound alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone, though that, too, had only been an illusion. There was the night watch, after all, and a couple of early risers, all of them politely keeping their distance to grant him privacy. He didn't even need to turn and see who it was, knew from the rhythm of the steps that it could only be one person.

No greeting, of course, but Ky knew better than to feel offended.

A tiny point of light flared up in the morning gloom, and a short moment later, a cloud of smoke rose to join his own condensing breath in the air. It took Ky a second to realize that he couldn't even smell it properly, and he self-consciously reached up to rub at his nose, undoubtedly already crimson from the cold.

Troublesome.

The snow was going to slow them down significantly, hiding the uneven terrain, its frozen state making it that much harder to walk. The cold, too, was working against them. It had to be colder than zero, a fair bit colder, if no more than a few minutes outside led to him losing the feeling in his cheeks and nose.

Colder than zero meant no new snow, most likely not anytime soon, and while that might have seemed like an improvement at first glance, it also left them with the question of the tracks. It was like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs; only the ones to pick up on them wouldn't be the local songbirds.

"Go over the mountain and risk running into them, or go around and risk running into them. What's it gonna be, boy?"

The voice breaking the silence surprised him a little; he had almost forgotten that the other man was even there.

"I didn't expect you up so early. Finally taking your duties seriously?" Ky returned, throwing him a sidelong glance. It was too cold for a smile, but the snort told him it had come across as a joke, anyway.

"Not hardly," Sol said, punctuated by another drag on his cigarette that almost seemed a bit demonstrative, as if daring him to say anything. "Too fucking cold to stay asleep. Getting up and walking around's better than freezing your ass off."

Despite his words, he was only wearing his normal overcoat, the cigarette balanced between gloveless fingers. Ky knew better than to remark on that, too. The lie was an obvious one, and they both knew it, but questioning Sol about his motives was an exercise in frustration and futility. Better to accept that he was here now, and had chosen to start a conversation rather than a fight.

"Either way, there's a risk," Ky said slowly, cupping his hands in front of his face and blowing. The warmth was only temporary, the air stinging against his skin when he stopped. Shaking his head, he dropped his hands again.

"We'd have to backtrack to go around… we'd lose valuable time. But… taking the direct route gives them more possibilities for an ambush. Some of the gorges up ahead almost require us to walk in single file."

"Running sushi, human style."

"This isn't funny, Sol," Ky said, frowning. Cynicism or not, he hated those kinds of remarks, even if they were depressingly accurate.

"Sure it isn't," Sol conceded, tapping the cigarette to make the ash drop into the snow. It didn't even sizzle, robbed of its heat before it hit the ground.

Sighing, Ky chose to return to the subject at hand. Arguing semantics wouldn't get them back to civilization.

"I'd prefer to go around under normal circumstances, but… they've burned down the last depot for the next hundred kilometers, and… that ship isn't going to find us."

"So that's what that was all about, yesterday," Sol said, and Ky looked at him in surprise.

"How did you—"

"—know that you were upset about something? You were clenching your ass tighter than usual."

He smirked in the face of Ky's withering glare, but relented eventually. "Don't worry, I don't think anybody else noticed."

"They bombed it clean out of the sky," Ky murmured, redirecting his line of sight to the pale clouds. That ship had been carrying a whole supply of medical equipment and ammunition, all things they desperately needed. "I don't think we can afford…"

"The mountain, then." Sol let the butt of the cigarette drop to the ground, where it sputtered and died.

"Yes," Ky nodded, trying his best to school his features into something resembling a neutral expression. It definitely wouldn't do to let his mood affect the rest of the troops.

Despite the fact that the conversation seemed to have drawn to a close, both of them remained, silently staring up at the line where white was melting into gray.

Eventually, Ky shifted, turning to go. "I'll tell them to bandage the horses."

There was no noise to tell him that Sol had moved, but he could still feel his gaze lingering on his back as he swiftly made his way to the other side of the camp.

----

"What are they _doing_?"

The question was whispered, almost lost on the wind howling around the rocky outcroppings—not directed at them, but at the horde of Gears bumbling along in the cirque below.

They didn't appear to be driven by any special purpose, though the fact alone that so many were grouped together in the same place, without dispersing or trying to tear each other apart, hinted at Justice's underlying control. Sol could see them even without any aid, silently counting numbers, trying to assess the extent of their strength.

Behind him, the scouts were more huddling than crouching together, worried looks etched into their faces. They were all looking the same these days, pale and frightened, children sooner suited to wielding a flail or a sickle than a sword.

All, except one.

"Dormant." To his left, Ky lowered the binoculars, squinting to adjust his eyesight.

They had been forced to stop a while ago when the news came in, brought by a sweat-drenched scout because radio communication had broken down between the peaks.

"About three-hundred, from the looks of it…"

"Three-hundred and sixty," Sol said, recounting as he spoke, and pretending he couldn't feel those eyes on him, thoughtful and steady instead of disbelieving or wary. "There's a couple of chameleons in there."

"Where?" Ky lifted the binoculars again, scanning the area.

"Over to the left, where the rocks are. Look for their shadows."

"I see them."

Sol didn't reply, waiting for the boy to finish his own head-count. It was a bit disconcerting, this lack of protest, of resistance, when Ky seemed so severe in everything else—just the type to get into a huff over being corrected, seeing it as undermining his authority. Not that Sol was being particularly respectful; that was a game he didn't feel like playing even on the best of days, with people who weren't children.

_Shouldn't it all be relative, from your perspective?_

Still, Ky had never been like that, taking offense at any bit of advice, when Sol had been so sure he would, instead keeping the real disagreements for when they could actually afford the time to properly… disagree.

"They could be bait." Ky let the binoculars sink again, his brows creasing just slightly.

"Maybe, but not very likely."

Justice rarely used tactics beyond brute force, simply attacking with a berserk fury that struck terror in her opponents.

_I suppose we should be thankful like good little boys and girls, that she likes seeing us squeal way more than she likes wiping us out in one go._

"Even so…" Ky paused. "Even so, if they're not under orders right now… something is up. If there's one group, then there are more. And we can't allow them to get any closer to the villages. It won't take much for them to notice us, anyway. And if they do…"

_…then the queen beast does._

Ky stayed silent for a moment, his face a calm facade, betraying nothing of his thoughts—that he was already mentally tallying the expected losses, calculating how to best use their limited resources, how to keep as many alive as he possibly could. Sol wouldn't have believed it himself, if he hadn't seen it, hadn't seen the kid poring over personalized condolence letters to the families of fallen soldiers whenever he had a moment to spare.

"So, we hit them?"

"We hit them."

----

"…ome in… ba… Base? …Command… Kiske?"

Ky winced against the loud explosion of static against his ear, trying to adjust the channel to a better frequency, to little avail. "Kiske here."

"Alpha wing… ere …pursuit… successfu… arget… estroyed…"

The voice was still heavily distorted, almost drowned out by the hissing noise, but the message was easily understood. If they hadn't been successful, there would have been no message.

"Understood. Return to base, Alpha."

The reply got lost in another burst of static, and then the channel was switched off. Ky returned to peeling his blood-soaked gloves off his hands before they could freeze solid there, reaching up to push his dripping bangs out of his face and unwittingly dragging the gore further through his hair.

The battle had been brutal, but not nearly as brutal as it could have been, if they hadn't had the element of surprise on their side. Ky drew a deep breath, stretching just as much as the soreness permitted—minor things, all minor, nothing that warranted any special attention, nothing that would slow him down—

"So there you are," came the familiar voice, Sol rounding the monstrous bulk of a charred beast that looked like part lizard, part nondescript deep-sea worm, shaking himself off in an attempt at getting rid of the foul-smelling substance that was covering his uniform.

There was an odd pause as he drew close, subjecting Ky to an intense stare he didn't know how to decipher, nostrils flaring almost as if… Ky shook his head. That was ridiculous.

"Gut fashionable this season?" Sol finally said, a hint of a smirk hovering at his lips, reaching out nonchalantly to pluck bits of tissue from his hair.

Ky stayed still, not sure why he allowed the intrusion, since the gesture was usually meant to annoy him—and annoy him it did, having his hair ruffled like a little kid. But now, it seemed more friendly than provocative, even though the glint in Sol's eyes was the same.

_Who knows… who knows what he's thinking. Sometimes, I think I understand… and then it all gets turned on its head again._

"And in three different colors, too. I see you're going for something daring."

That elicited a weary chuckle. "What, only three?"

Sol picked another bit from his hair and made a show of examining it. "Eh, three and a half."

"You're not doing so bad, yourself," Ky observed, nodding at the streaks of gray-green _something_ slowly freezing solid against splashes of pink and red.

"You kidding? Something sneezed all over me when I was trying to kill it. I've never been so insulted in my life."

"Gear snot, how lovely." Ky made a face. "Stop touching me."

"You weren't complaining when I was touching you a second ago. I'd have thought you could tell by the smell."

"It's not that much different from how you usually smell," Ky retorted, trying very hard to keep from smiling. He knew he didn't have the time, but banter was nice, this was nice, a welcome transition from the battle to the inevitable aftermath, when he would have to deal with everything else.

_It's… not so bad. I think… I think we did okay._

"Oh, burn."

Silence descended between them, Sol pleasantly picking the last bits of Gear intestines from his hair and Ky trying to decide on how to proceed from here.

This battle had further exhausted their already limited supplies, not to mention the troops. They were still a good way from anywhere, but now they would be forced to set up camp for the night close by, a place Ky really didn't want to stay in, because it wouldn't take the enemy long to catch on.

"Puts a kink in our plans, doesn't it," Sol eventually said, voicing Ky's own thoughts. It was funny, in a very frustrating and yet sometimes oddly comforting way, how it was always "their" plan until Sol found something in it that he didn't like. Ky noticed that his fingers were still there, plucking lightly, almost involuntarily, and that was strange as well, but not entirely unpleasant, either.

"I'm afraid so. We won't be able to get very far… people are already at their limit. But we should at least try…"

"Yeah."

Ky frowned. With this group destroyed, any others in the surrounding area would become active, though the outcome would have been the same either way, most likely even worse. Remaining here would be beyond foolish; they needed to cover as much distance as possible before nightfall, and camp out in a location that was much more to their advantage.

_They'll understand. They'll understand we'll have to move as far as we can… nobody wants to die through false kindness._

Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on top of his head. "Let's get you cleaned up, before you turn into a Ky-sicle."

"Haha, very funny," Ky muttered, shrugging off the hand and turning towards the base camp.

Suddenly, the radio at his belt crackled again. "…ommander… Alpha… you… ere…?"

Blinking in mild surprise, Ky unhooked it and brought it to his ear. "Speaking."

More crackling, and then the noise faded, leaving the squadron leader's voice to ring through in a distorted shadow of itself.

"…Commander, you… ight wanna look at this."

-----

The small collection of houses huddling against the side of the mountain barely even deserved to be called a village. The buildings were more simple wooden huts than farmhouses—though you had to wonder what they thought they were farming up here, with rocks all around and barely any green—the tiny church by far the most well-kept construction around, and that told Sol all he needed to know.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about the settlement was that it wasn't abandoned.

"I can't believe there are still people this far out," Ky was saying, marking the location on his map. The thing was so tiny nobody had even bothered putting it on the record, and Sol knew that this alone was bothering the boy severely.

"Maybe they missed the memo about the coming apocalypse?" Sol suggested, only half in jest.

With these remote villages, you never knew—some of them managed to survive like tiny, stubborn islands in a raging sea, because sheer luck let them—Justice either not knowing or caring, with her sights set on something that would put up more of a struggle before she inevitably crushed it.

Ky frowned harder. "It doesn't matter—they can't stay here. If the Gears find this place…"

_Blood in the water. This'll be a one-stop buffet and nothing more._

----

The village mayor… elder… whatever he was—Sol had never been able to memorize all these different customs and couldn't have cared less, anyway—was surprised to see soldiers arriving in his little town, but was by no means unaware of their purpose.

He was the typical wizened old geezer this job seemed to require, with wild bushy eyebrows nearly hiding his sunken eyes. He had to lift them in an almost comical fashion to peer at his visitors, while his granddaughter silently poured tea into three mugs and then tried her best to make herself seem part of the nonexistent wallpaper.

"…I understand that the situation is grave," the old man said after Ky had finished outlining the circumstances. He took a deep breath and then waved at the girl, who seemed to take this as her cue to bring him his pipe. The old man serenely filled it with fresh tobacco and lit it, drawing a couple of times before continuing. "…But we will not leave."

"Pardon?!"

That wasn't the word Sol would've chosen for the occasion, but the audible disbelief in Ky's voice was probably the most impolite thing he could manage. Just their luck, running into someone who had already lost his marbles.

Ky cleared his throat, hastily catching himself. "I mean, I beg your pardon? Perhaps, my explanation wasn't—"

The elder drew on his pipe again. "Your explanation was perfectly clear, young man. But… this is the lot in life granted to us by God. And so He will… we shall be spared."

_Okay, that one isn't just past his expiry date, he's stark raving mad._

It was really tempting to say that out loud, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. He threw a sideways glance at Ky, whose eyes had darkened at that invocation, clearly not pleased yet not about to criticize. A strange fragment from his own childhood education on the matter surfaced momentarily, making him wonder…

_Heaven helps those… how did that go again?_

"But the Gears won't—"

"We have faith, young man."

The old man stared at Ky for a long moment, as if daring a holy knight to say anything against his beliefs, but Ky stayed silent, even though he obviously wanted to say something.

"…I understand."

"Hey, wait a second—"

But Ky was already pushing back from his seat, preparing to leave. "I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time." He bowed slightly. "Thank you for the tea, Miss."

----

Once they were outside again, Sol finally voiced his displeasure. He thought that he had shown remarkable restraint in the face of so much idiocy, and the entire way Ky had folded just like that was bothering him all the more.

"And here I thought humanity had learned something during the last century. Fucking nutcases. If the guy upstairs really were that fond of helping out in his own vegetable patch…"

"Heaven helps those who help themselves," Ky murmured softly, a strange echo of his earlier thoughts. He didn't even take offense at his words, not like Sol had been hoping he would, in a moment of utter irrationality where he just wanted to punch something. "…But I understand that some wouldn't see it that way."

"Give me a break," Sol growled, watching the boy put two fingers to his chest, to the cross Sol knew was hidden beneath his uniform. "You _understand_? All I understand is that the guy's fucking insane."

Ky looked at him for a long moment, the hardness in his eyes not really directed at anything. "I may not like it, but I understand. In a way. I understand that anything else… might simply be too hard for them to take."

"What's so hard about making like a tree and _leaving_?"

"If you've built your whole life around a single thing… that can be hard to let go of. Perhaps… it would require that person to change forever."

Sol wanted to reply to that, but something stopped him, something that came wrapped in a memory of the scent of formaldehyde and chlorine. He shook his head.

Ky sighed, and started walking. "Let's go back. I need a map for this."

"Oh, come on now. You're not that cute. You can't possibly be that cute."

"What do you expect me to do, Sol? Leave these people to _die_?" Ky said sharply, whipping around to stare at him.

Glaring hard, Sol wished not for the first time that he could shake some sense into the foolish child. He would have, too, if he weren't so certain that it would accomplish nothing, that Ky would still do this, alone if necessary, or die trying. He would have, if he had thought for even a second that Ky had no idea what he was doing, that he wasn't thinking exactly about everything it would cost them, and more.

"Fucking hell."

"Sol?"

"Let's go get that map. We're gonna need a solid defense for this," he muttered, briskly resuming his step, so that he didn't have to be subjected to that goddamn grateful smile.

----

"All clear, sir, as far as I can see. Radar's being a bi—I mean, the radar is being wonky."

Ky suppressed the amused snort that wanted to escape him at the soldier's hasty correction—what was it about him that people thought they couldn't talk how they usually talked? He was sure Sol would have a ready answer to that, if an incomprehensible one.

"Understood. Just do what you can and try to keep an eye out."

"Will do, sir."

The radio clicked off, and Ky returned to gazing into the darkness beyond the pass.

At his side, one of the snipers shifted on the ground, adjusting her grip on the ray gun, and muttering something in rapid Italian that sounded like "radar" with a couple of curses attached.

"We'll just have to make do, Private," he said softly after a moment, the foreign words slow to come to him.

It hadn't been meant as a reproach, but she whipped around to stare up at him, a guilty flush spreading across her cheeks that was visible even in the blue-tinged gloom.

"Oh no, I didn't mean—" she said quickly, in heavily accented English. "It's not the radar, it's…" She waved her hand. "It's in the earth. Veins of ore, crystal formations deep within, and other things."

"I see."

The woman ducked her head. "Not that I, uh, think you don't know this, sir. I just… people love blaming stuff on technology whenever something goes wrong. You know?"

Ky nodded and smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging manner, though that seemed to have the opposite effect as the sniper flushed harder and fell silent.

"You know a fair bit about these things."

"Oh! Oh, not really, sir. I just grew up tinkering with this stuff. My father used to be a sonar operator for the 7th fleet off Sicily. I… I couldn't have followed in his footsteps, though, not after…"

_Not after they blew that fleet out of the water, and Sicily along with it, in the first assault on the Mediterranean._

It had happened before he was even born, almost twenty years ago, but the thought of an entire island wiped clean…

"I'm sorry, sir."

Ky realized he was frowning again, and shook his head. "There's nothing to apologize for. It's good to know that there's someone to help out in case we're having problems."

If at all possible, the woman turned even redder at the compliment, but didn't reply. Ky scanned the area one last time, detecting nothing.

"I'll leave the field to you, then. Report immediately if there is even the slightest thing unusual."

"Of course, sir."

She seemed relieved to be able to return to military protocol, and Ky didn't need to look back to know that the other snipers were relaxing just slightly as soon as he had turned away. Briefly, he wondered whether he really was that unapproachable, before chasing the thought away and resuming his trek down the slope, towards the commander's tent.

----

A mug slammed down in front of him with a little more force than necessary, startling him out of his concentration.

Sol withdrew his hand, muttering something unintelligible about food, before busying himself with his own mug. It was a steaming kind of broth just shy of being too salty, but Ky sipped at it gratefully, not caring how it burned in his mouth.

"Thank you."

Sol glanced up at him over the rim of his mug in mild surprise, before his expression seamlessly morphed into a glare.

He had a peculiar thing about having his kindness shoved in his face, and Ky freely admitted, if only to himself, that it was part of his reason for saying thank you, apart from due gratitude or politeness. There was a certain element of pleasure in seeing Sol twitch and glare accusingly whenever he realized that he had done something he hadn't really meant to do, for whatever reason.

"The instruments are still having trouble," Ky said after a while, reaching out to brush a few scattered drops of soup from the map. "I don't think we can rely on them, but… there's no sense in telling the troops that we're basically blind and deaf."

Sol stayed silent, leaning against one corner of the table.

"The outpost still isn't responding, either. I've got no idea if they can even receive us." He paused. "…How were things on your end?"

"Nothing," Sol said, and downed the rest of his mug in one go, despite the liquid being scalding hot. "But that doesn't mean…"

"I know."

It came out quietly, almost apologetically, and he _was_ sorry, in a way, for expecting Sol to see them coming when their instruments couldn't, when the rest of them couldn't, just because he had better eyesight, because he had enough experience to predict…

_It's more than that, and you know it is. Nobody can predict these things, not like that. Sometimes, it's like he's pulling it out of thin air…_

So many incongruities, things that were simply lacking an explanation however much he tried. And Sol, of course, impenetrable as always, putting his talents out in the open, doing so many impossible things…

_Take it or leave it. Not much of a choice, is it?_

Ky would never understand why a man like that wasn't at least a sub-commander, for no matter how much Sol's more insufferable qualities could drive him up the wall, his rudeness, his improper conduct and his tendency to disregard orders, it wasn't like he didn't have the ability, and Ky _had_ seen him risk his life to save people, however much Sol liked to pretend. And if he could recognize that, there was no reason to believe Commander Undersn hadn't recognized it ten times over.

_Then again, it wasn't like people weren't following him, anyway. If I weren't so sure he really didn't care for the responsibility, I'd wonder if he resents me for taking it off his hands._

"Once the weather clears up, the connection might be better. I'm loath to send any kind of messenger… and it's not like they'd be much faster than us."

_Faster at dying, maybe…_, came the little voice in the back of his mind, and he shook his head because that thought wasn't his, that biting sarcasm belonged to someone else.

He looked up at Sol, who hadn't even acknowledged his words with a noise or a gesture, to find him standing perfectly still and staring straight ahead, beyond the pale folds of the tent, at something Ky couldn't see.

"Sol? Is something…?"

Sol's eyes snapped back into sudden, sharp focus, and he knew then, even without the words, what it meant.

"Doesn't matter. They're here."

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.

.

----

-TBC-

**A/N: **...I'm pretty sure I'm ripping off every wartime movie I've ever seen here. XD C&C is, of course, very welcome.

1) Title adapted from a poem by Amy Lowell. Pretentious author is pretentious.  
2) I had a specific place in mind when I wrote this, and you might even be able to guess where it is from a few hints. No, it's not Italy. XD  
3) Yes, I gave them magic guns. Because fighting raging twenty-foot beasts with nothing but crossbows is a little... laughable. Sorry, Ishiwatari-san, but no.  
4) I'm pretty sure everyone of rank in the Order can give commands and hold a conversation in at least six different languages, and the soldiers can swear in a couple of more, not counting the dialects. *laughs*


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Burn Like Snow  
**Fandom:** Guilty Gear  
**Part:** 2/2  
**Characters:** Sol, Ky  
**Rating:** PG-15  
**Warnings:** Violence, blood, and all the good stuff.  
**Disclaimer:** The sandbox is not mine.  
**Notes:** Set at an unspecified point in time, though I'd place this fairly early in their relationship, and Ky is not yet supreme commander.

-

**Burn Like Snow**

_**Part II**_

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-

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It should have been a bloodbath, as the Gears made a run for the pass, seeking to ambush the soldiers under the cover of darkness. It would have been, too, if not for the mere minute of advance warning, enough for Ky to lunge for the radio and scream out an order for the gunners to start firing, anywhere, no matter where, right _now_.

The camp came to life the instant the first ray gun went off, a pulse of brilliant blue energy cutting a swath through the darkness and straight into the oncoming wave of monsters, soldiers scrambling into position, lights igniting all around, until the entire mountain range was bathed in the unrelenting blaze of magic.

Time enough, for them to make it to the top, to welcome those who had managed to evade the rapidly whistling guns.

Sol was ahead of him, charging past the line of gunners to a shocked cry—

"Sir, don't! We can't guarantee—!"

—a fiery blaze marking his point of impact in the midst of the writhing mass only a few moments later. Ky followed in the ravine carved by one of the ray guns, trusting mere instinct to lead him over the uneven ground, the white-hot force of lightning too quick to guide his eyes.

He could hear the surprised roars among the Gears as their assault faltered slightly, clearly not having expected such a fierce advance, and spared a single thought as he tore through the first wave—

_So God will… I won't disappoint your faith._

----

After a while, it was almost impossible to tell what was uphill and what was downhill—the Gears, true to their nature, quickly recovered from the unexpected counter-strike, resuming their charge up the mountain with little regard to themselves, directed by someone who couldn't have cared less whether they lived or died, while the human commander was trying to do the opposite.

Thankfully, Ky's soldiers required nowhere near the same level of control, the experience from countless other battles telling them where to strike, and how, when to push forward and when to fall back, how to best stay alive.

However, even they were approaching their limit, as another gun post fell to the onslaught, pushing them farther and farther back.

Ky had lost sight of Sol, but didn't have the time to spare it much thought—there was no need to worry, no, not there, never there—as he evaded a blow from the razor-sharp jaws of a multi-headed hellspawn, its acidic saliva stirring up pungent fumes when it hit the snow.

He sprung back as the second head lunged like a spear, crashing into the ground where he had been standing a split second ago, and he twisted out of the way as another swiveled around to strike, bringing his sword down.

The creature howled in pain and outrage, the other appendages all charging at him at once, and he sent a column of lightning to meet them. Dazed, the heads swayed aimlessly for a moment, enough time for Ky to dive under its feet, dragging the Furaiken in one long cut across the unprotected belly. He rolled as the Gear toppled over with a gurgling roar, crashing sideways to the ground, its intestines spilling over the snow in a mass of pink foam.

A cry made him whirl around just in time to see a soldier lose his footing, and one of the creatures lunged, claws shaped like scythes—too late, he knew it was too late even as a storm of lightning slammed into the monster, tearing it off the fallen man and into a group of others, their skin incinerating under the force of the blow.

There was anger there, lurking beneath the surface, threatening to bubble up in a stream of unrelenting fury if he let it, but Ky knew he couldn't—not now, not ever, no matter how many soldiers he saw fall, no matter how many times he was too late to save someone, anyone— He couldn't afford to let his feelings rule him, _they_ couldn't afford it…

A pack of nearby monsters swerved in their tracks and charged, heading for him with whiplash tails and poisonous fangs—

_That's the fastest way to go; lose your head and you lose the war, that's how simple it is, really…_

The Furaiken tore through the first wave with barely any delay, heads and limbs scattering like debris, and Ky let the blade channel a new torrent of magic, ripping straight through the impaled bodies and into the next wave, blue mixing with scarlet red.

_Sometimes, I wish I could be faster, stronger, past anything, just like… but this is what has been given to me, and this is my tool, to do the best I can._

A sharp, wordless shout, and Ky threw himself to the ground without even thinking, a wall of fire blazing straight over his head, the death cries of a giant winged lizard filling the air.

"Don't start getting lax, boy!"

Sol grinned, a wild and unrestrained expression, the fire swirling around the massive sword with an untempered fervor, the first tentative rays of dawn dying the blood on his uniform the color of the flames.

_And power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the Earth… The Rider of the Red Horse…_

Ky shook his head, rolling to his feet and sending a barrage of lightning bolts past Sol, crippling a giant spider, its body crashing to the ground.

"Same to you!" he heard himself call, almost automatically, as if there was a separate part of him reserved just for that, no matter the situation.

For a moment, the smirk was electric.

Then, Sol turned around, the sword blazing up with renewed fury, and took off on a charge against the nearest large-class.

_Sometimes I can't help but wonder… what it's like to live like that…_

----

The light of the morning sun piercing through the clouds after long absence couldn't have dyed the snow any redder.

The battle was far from over, but the relentless storm of Gears pouring over the pass had been growing steadily weaker, the remaining snipers picking off what they could. The entire mountainside had become a mixture of blood, slush, and grime, humans and Gears alike struggling to keep their balance on the steeper portions of the incline.

"Gun post C, E, and K destroyed. Green battalion… destroyed. No signal from yellow, status unconfirmed…"

The voice was cut off by the force of dancing electricity as Ky carved his way through another Gear that threatened to make it past the final line of defense, no breath to spare an answer. It didn't really matter, anyway, the base report not telling him much beyond what he already knew. The battle had cost them, was costing them still, but…

_The sun is up, and we're still standing. The worst… we survived the worst…_

A few yards away, Sol pulled his sword free from a tangled mass of jerking tentacles and flashed him a strange sign, two fingers outstretched from a closed fist. Ky wasn't sure what the gesture had originally meant, pretty confident in his assumption that it was some obscure custom from forever ago—Sol was fond of these things, for whatever reason—but its purpose now was clear.

_Yes._

"…ir? Sir?!"

Another burst of static in his earpiece.

"There is something, sir, we're not sure—" More crackling, the voice muffled and distant, though there was no mistaking its urgency, and he yanked the radio to his mouth.

"What is it?"

"We don't know, sir. Radar's picking up something, but we can't tell what it is—! Oh my god, what—"

"Major?! Major!" The transmission broke off, and when it came back, it was tinny and hollow, fragmented.

"—huge—can't believe—below—from inside—sir!"

The frantic cry lost importance in the face of another sensation, though—a deep vibration running up the side of the mountain, shaking the earth, and Ky followed the tremor with his eyes, up and up, to the looming white peak…

He could hear soldiers and Gears alike crying out in surprise, but was helpless, helpless to do anything but watch as the peak seemed to burst, catching a glimpse of a giant writhing body even at this distance—

_Mega-death class!_

A ripple seemed to spill from the mountaintop, smooth and terrifying, racing with unchecked speed—it was useless to run, useless to do anything as it crested like a wave, rising to swallow everything, and Ky's last glimpse was of a brilliant red flare somewhere just in front of him, before the world was suddenly plunged into white nothingness.

----

Having grown up in a coastal village, Ky couldn't say that he had much experience with avalanches. He had heard stories, of course, the way one heard so many things in the army, but none of them had covered this part, all choosing to skip over it and to the end of the story… and now he understood why.

There should have been words for it, but there just weren't any, nothing to describe that single moment of blinding, all-consuming terror that came from being buried alive. And when they finally came, after what seemed like an eternity but couldn't have been all that long, they couldn't have been more banal.

_Some days are better than others._

The flat, deadpan thought shattered the panic with its sheer ridiculousness, a throwback to a conversation from forever ago—smoke, ruins, carnage, and that voice—"Some days are better than others"—infuriating in its sarcasm—bringing his thoughts into sudden, acute focus.

_You are in a pinch, so get out of it._

The snow was closing in on him from all sides, but its pressure was not unbearable, and Ky realized that he could still breathe, breathe through the wet, cold mass… The Furaiken was still clutched tightly in his grasp, a comforting weight, and he tried to bring up his free hand—the snow moved, shifting closer to him like the grip of a giant white fist, closing threateningly…

He didn't remember the time, wasn't sure how long the air would last—five minutes? fifteen? he couldn't say—but he clenched his hand, feeling the power flow…

_I don't care how long it lasts, I don't_ care_, I will not die here!_

The charge was minimal, but concentrated, and in a second, he let it go, his fist shooting upward with the furious crackle ringing in his ears.

Later, he couldn't say whether the snow burst from above or beyond, or both at the same time, just that it caved in, a searing touch closing around his hand and yanking him upward.

He scrambled, kicking, as he was dragged out of that white grave and into a darker day, coughing and spluttering like a drowning man.

For a moment, Ky knelt there, just trying to catch his breath and calm his heart, which was racing again—or perhaps it had never stopped, and he just hadn't noticed.

That burning grasp remained, wrapped around his wrist when he finally staggered to his feet. Slowly, he looked up at Sol, his hair unraveled from its usual ponytail, the strange headband askew, his uniform ripped to shreds in odd places, and he knew, in that moment, he _knew_…

_It's impossible, absolutely impossible…_

No man could have escaped, no man could have made it up that mountain, let alone _fought_…

…_and yet, here it is._

The question that came tumbling out of his mouth was useless, senseless because he already knew the answer, but at the same time, he couldn't not ask.

"That Gear…?"

Something flashed in those eyes, and Ky couldn't say whether it was wariness or something else entirely.

Shouts were rising all around them, other soldiers struggling, working to free their buried comrades, but he could hear Sol's voice all the same, quiet and rough, as if he had screamed himself hoarse.

"Took care of it."

No use denying what they both knew to be the truth, but Ky was too exhausted to question it any further right now. His gaze fell to their joined hands, Sol's fingers the only points of heat in his entire body, and he stared for a moment, trying to formulate a proper reply, some way to thank—but then it all was derailed by a single thought, striking him like a spear of ice.

_The village—!_

----

_Some days are better than others._

It had been his motto for as long as he cared to remember, back when the world found a new way to descend to the next circle of hell every other Wednesday, and all he could do was shrug off the setbacks, the failures, the apocalypse, and keep working through it, at his pace, the only pace that was reliable, the only pace that mattered, because there was nothing else he could do.

_Some days are better than others._

He was reminded of it now, watching all those people scrambling, scurrying about like frantic ants, digging and digging, unearthing more corpses than survivors, makeshift shelters being erected to care for the wounded the best they could. The avalanche had torn through a good portion of the base camp and into the village, the houses folding like stacks of cards. And he knew, as the evening drew steadily closer, the sun having long since vanished behind the clouds again, just what the chances of survival were.

_Some days are better than others… and some are just fucking unbearable._

They had been close, so damn close, and somehow it was that much harder to shake it off, to let go of the helpless fury roiling in the pit of his stomach—useless, all useless, nothing but a waste of energy, spent on things that no longer mattered—because the kid was there. The kid was there like a goddamn pillar in the midst of it all, almost paler than the snow, working as if he didn't know the odds, as if he could force them to change through sheer will.

He hadn't paused for even a minute, not since that realization had dawned on his face, and Sol knew it was what kept the soldiers working, and that was why Ky kept working.

The urge to say something rose up against his better judgment, and it didn't really matter how often he told himself that it wasn't any of his business, that he couldn't care less, it wouldn't go away.

"Hey, kid, take a break already."

Ky barely even looked up at him, but Sol could easily recognize that glassy look that said he had been up for close to forty-eight hours and was running almost entirely on autopilot.

"I can't. You know that."

"Sure you can. It's very easy. Here, I'll help you, even—hit in the right place, you'll be out before you know it."

Ky's glare was not as fierce as it otherwise would have been, dulled by his exhaustion, and it failed to amuse him as it usually did, instead striking an odd chord he really didn't like.

"Go away, Sol. I can't, you know it, so just leave it be. I've got too much to do to argue—"

"Don't make me knock you out for real, kid."

"Heaven help me, you—!"

Just then, shouts arose from two different directions—one from uphill, from the makeshift communications station harboring the precious remains of their equipment, the other from further downhill, from the wreckage of splintered wood.

"Oh my god—there's somebody there!"

"Incoming transmission! Commander Marceau is requesting coordinates for rendezvous point!"

-----

For a moment, Ky felt as if he had been swept off his feet, thought and reason being drowned out by an intense, overwhelming wave of relief. It left him reeling, even as his mouth was working without him, shouting out orders and directing people to the site of the burial.

_Safe…? They're… the village… safe…?_

The realist in him was still frozen in place, stunned, by the time the first person was dragged out from under the snow to the cheers of the soldiers, while the rest of him sent a quick prayer to the heavens in deepest gratitude.

_Thank you… for allowing me to keep my word._

The people had only survived because they had grouped together in the small church, perhaps the sturdiest building in the entire town—most of them were hurt and frightened, shaking as much from shock as from the cold, but for the most part, not seriously injured.

"We had faith, young man," the elder merely said when they helped him out of the hole, a broken leg doing nothing to change the serene tone of his voice. "We had faith."

There should have been anger at these words, anything he could say in the face of so much piety bordering on arrogance—but that discovery had taken everything out of him, leaving him exhausted and empty.

"Now listen here, fuckwit, if that messiah reincarnated over there hadn't decided your senile ass was worth saving, I'd—"

"Don't."

Sol turned to him, the thunderous look on face being replaced by incredulity. "What do you mean, 'don't', you can't seriously—"

Ky shook his head wearily. "Just don't."

_People like that man… won't change no matter what you say. God will be the one they praise in luck, and others will be the ones they condemn in misfortune. Besides, you're right… in the end… it was my decision to stay._

Sol stared hard at him for a good minute, only relaxing slightly when they finally took the old man away to patch him up.

Ky dragged a hand through his hair, feeling resistance and knowing that it was probably coated by a fine sheen of ice crystals. It was getting hard to focus, but there was still so much waiting to be done…

"Sir! Commander Marceau is requesting the details of the operation. He'd like to meet with you to coordinate further measures ASAP. What should I tell him, sir?"

Blinking, Ky extracted his fingers from his hair, the words skittering away from him like marbles skipping along a flat surface.

"Tell him…"

He paused.

"Send the details, and tell him to make an appointment for Friday. Friday in a _week_."

By the time Ky realized that this couldn't have possibly come out of his own mouth, his feet were already moving, Sol taking a hold of his arm and steering him towards the commander's tent.

----

It was somewhat disturbing that he was able to move the kid about like a rag doll—Sol had expected at least a brief struggle, Ky protesting loudly and attempting to electrocute him, but there was barely any resistance at all, the boy following his lead as if his mind had shut down completely.

"You're kicking me out of my own meeting?" he finally murmured, baffled and a little amused.

"No, I'm saving you from embarrassing yourself by keeling over in the middle of it and going into a coma," Sol returned, hooking the tent flap closed.

"How much are you getting paid for this."

Sol grinned. "You couldn't pay me enough to put up with you, boy."

Truth be told, even he wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this, only that once he got past his anger at that stupid needless martyrdom and a two dozen other annoying traits, there really wasn't much of a choice, with everyone else being too damn respectful to tell their savior to just go and take a damn nap already.

_It's this insidious madness, you realize, and before you know it, you'll be shining your boots every morning and escorting lost ducklings back to their mothers._

"Thanks so much."

"What, that's all?"

"I'm too tired to argue with you right now," Ky muttered, loosening the buckles on his uniform, the material crinkling softly, having frozen over.

"You know, it's generally a good idea to do something _before_ your lips start turning blue."

"I hadn't noticed," Ky said, touching two fingers to his mouth, and with anyone else, these words would have been sarcastic, but from his honest surprise, it seemed he really hadn't been aware.

_Only you, kid. Only you._

"I was feeling cold there, for a while… but then it stopped." He shrugged.

"Aw hell. Don't tell me you failed Basic Survival Skills 101, boy scout. It won't go away if you just ignore it long enough."

Ky scowled, slightly more awake in the face of that tone, and shrugged out of his stiff coat. "It's not like I'm enjoying this."

"You're a masochist, kid. A circumstantial masochist, maybe, but a masochist nonetheless."

"…I will thaw out a witty comeback and beat you with it later."

Sol rolled his eyes, walking over to the cot.

"You mean when you can actually think of one." He sighed. "Damn, c'mere. I won't be responsible for your death."

"…What?"

"They'd pin this on me, you know," Sol said, reaching behind his back to unroll the blanket and toss it at the kid's head. "Because I'm in here, which means you'd freeze to death in _my_ presence. Which would mean I let you. And then it'd be _my_ fault."

Ky slowly pulled the blanket down around his shoulders, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "And that'd bother you?"

"Hell yeah, that'd bother me. I get cold just looking at you."

"That would be rude of me, to bother you by dying," Ky said, a spark of humor dancing in his eyes, and slowly padded over, seating himself on the edge of the cot.

It wasn't the first time the kid had simply zonked out on him—it had happened before, when Ky had been driven past his limit and just nodded off in the nearest safe place… which usually happened to be around the walking weapon that wouldn't die. He would fall into an uneasy sleep and sooner or later slip over to one side, and it was pretty amusing to see him all red-faced and flustered when he woke up again.

This time, though, Sol found himself actually offering to play the part of the living pillow. It shouldn't have been so easy, either; all he had to do was shift a bit closer and up the temperature a little, and the kid was practically curling up against his shoulder, and looking just that much younger that Sol could feel that nagging sense of responsibility again.

_Ah, hell. Noble sacrifice. That's what it is._

"You're warm," Ky murmured, burrowing further into the blanket. "S'unfair."

"Oh yeah?"

"…Yeah…"

It really was kind of unfair, Sol thought, that the kid could make such a face when all he was doing was warming him up, like he was actually content with nothing but a few extra degrees of warmth in his life.

"So troublesome."

Ky didn't even react, his breathing steadily evening out, his head slipping just a little bit further, and Sol rolled his eyes. It wouldn't do to spend the rest of the night like this, making himself stiff and sore by trying to stay still, so that the kid wouldn't wake up.

After a while, he shifted, easing down on the cot. There was barely enough room for both of them, forcing him to prop up one leg on the floor. Ky stirred, jerking back into some semblance of awareness.

"Hmm?"

"Go back to sleep. I'll call you if the world ends, promise."

There might have been some kind of affirmative in the sleepy noise he got in reply, but it didn't really matter.

Sol stretched a little, folding his free arm under his own head, and pointedly directed his gaze towards the roof of the tent. He could feel himself beginning to drift, the fatigue catching up with him. His right side would be all pins and needles come morning from being wedged under Ky all night, and the kid would likely wake up at some ungodly hour, and would have to be manually prevented from doing something he deemed important.

Right now, though, this wasn't so bad. He could live with this, he thought, at least for a little while.

-

-

-

----

-FIN-

**A/N:** Um, and that's it. If you made it this far, you know what this is all about now: This was one giant excuse to write a blanket scene. XDDD I sincerely apologize for the length and everything else that is wrong with it. C&C is welcome, as always. :) Now on to the A/N nobody cares about:

1) The Rider of the Red Horse is War, from the four riders of the apocalypse. Revelation 6:4, King James edition: "And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword." Gee, I wonder why~  
2) \m/ is that certain sign. XD  
3) Avalanches are... special. They rarely happen the way you see it in movies, and thus, your chances of survival are _greater_. Yes, people can actually stay alive when buried. The pressure isn't severe unless you are really far under, and contrary to popular belief, you _can_ breathe. If you're rescued within the first fifteen to twenty minutes, you're just fine... longer than that, and the survival rate drops significantly because the snow becomes saturated with your own carbon dioxide.  
4) Yes, the universe just imploded from fluff.


End file.
